PREVIEW

... strong>

The morning air in the capital city was crisp, despite chilly cold a few days ago.

Dew clung to the leaves outside Akamir’s window.

Four days had passed since the dome, the fairies, and the Bride of the Forsaken Tree.

’And I still hate every second of it.’

Akamir groaned as he fixed his shirt.

He stood in front of the mirror, his shirt half-buttoned, crimson eyes narrowed at his own reflection.

The scars from the skull-vines had fad ...

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